Judge John Deed: series 3 episode 5
by Kristine Thorne
Summary: Totally unrealistic, totally sexy, just an idea that Richard and I wrote 5 years ago, to try it out for our joint fics.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the BBc. I am simply having some fun with them.

A/N: I have absolutely no excuse for this little threesome, except that a couple of my readers demanded it. This is a possible follow on from series three episode four of Judge John Deed.

Judge John Deed: series three episode five

Part One

It was a few days since Diana Hulsey had died, and George had urged, persuaded and cajoled her clients, One Way PLC, in to settling out of court. George seemed to have spent those few days in a kind of limbo, a state of almost not existing. Though to be fair, her inner turmoil hadn't begun at Diana Hulsey's death, but on the day when she'd seen that awful picture on John's computer, when she'd realised just what lengths her clients and her lover would go to in order to remove John once and for all. Yes, she'd warned John to be careful, once she'd discovered that his personal or professional safety was threatened, but she'd had absolutely no idea that they would go this far. George had maintained her professional exterior, whilst inwardly floundering in the face of what she'd all but been party too. Neil had been furious when his gamble hadn't paid off, and he'd been barely communicating with her ever since. Yet, when it came to bed, he still seemed to want her. Every night since John had made her look at that evil, horrific picture that had been e-mailed to him, Neil had turned to her, showing a level of sexual interest in her that he only ever really displayed when another of his attempts to get one over on John had failed. It was as if he was saying that whilst he might have professionally failed to make John surplus to requirements, with George he had succeeded. Her skin crawled every time she thought of those ensuing nights, her body having been totally immune to any touch, any caress Neil had bestowed on her. When she looked in to his face above her, all she'd been able to see was the picture of that child, the picture that Neil had known about, the picture that had almost sealed John's fate. She'd allowed Neil to sleep with her, because refusing would have meant far too many questions, explanations and recriminations. But on the sixth day after the Diana Hulsey case had been closed, she knew it was time, time for her to have it out with Neil, time for him to explain just how he could sanction the use of something so abhorrent.

It was late afternoon, and for once, Neil was preparing for a debate at home rather than doing it in his office at the Commons. George thought cynically that he was probably trying to avoid any possible backlash from the latest political debacle. George walked in to the lounge, and poured herself a large drink. Neil raised an eyebrow at her.

"A bit early, isn't it?"

"No," Replied George, and Neil swore he could see the glimpse of an approaching storm in her eyes. "I need some Dutch courage for the conversation we're about to have."

"This isn't about Deed, is it?" Asked Neil, putting down his paper and for once giving her his full attention. He'd known this subject would arise sooner or later, and had been mentally preparing for it for days.

"Right in one," Replied George, her tone as hard as diamond, ready to cut whatever explanation he gave her to shreds.

"If you hadn't given him prior warning," Said Neil nastily, "He'd have been out on his ear by now."

"You don't know I did anything of the kind," She said carefully, praying that he didn't have any actual proof.

"I'm not stupid, George. You did exactly the same with the Tracy Spink case. You dropped me in it to get Deed out of a hole. You did it then, and I'm certain you did it this time."

"I don't know how you can sit there and be so bloody self righteous," She said, the scorn dripping from her words like icicles. "You and your underhanded lackeys sanction the use of something so deplorable to have John professionally kicked out of touch, when you know he would never even think of going near anything of the kind, and you sit there, and rant on at me for attempting to pull him out of the professional grave you seem hell bent on committing him too. How? How can you do it?"

"You know as well as I do, that the only way of getting the One Way case swept under the carpet was to have Deed removed."

"Diana Hulsey's son has been left homeless, parentless, and currently being cared for by the state, and considering One Way's ruthless cover up of their culpability in his mother's death, I'd say they owed him a lot more than what I managed to dredge out of them, wouldn't you?"

"Will you listen to yourself for a minute. You're even talking like Deed. The fact that One Way placed a settlement on the boy will open up the floodgates to an endless stream of litigants who will cripple the mobile phone companies and go a long way to crippling this country's economy."

"Do you know something," She said derisively, "I think that's half your problem sometimes. You don't have one shred of human feeling in you, do you, except that for revenge and jealousy."

"Don't be ridiculous," He replied scornfully.

"Tell me something," Continued George, "Did you see what they planted on John's computer? Did you see what the despicable cretins you call staff sanctioned the use of?"

"No, of course not. Cabinet ministers never get their hands dirty, no matter how necessary the course of action."

"So I've noticed," She replied dryly. "Well, I did have to look at that picture. John knew that either my clients or you or both were responsible for what had been e-mailed to him. So, he called me up to his chambers, and told me to look at what was on his computer screen. Do you know what it was? It was a picture of a little boy being raped. I swear that was the most horrific thing I've ever seen in my life. How could you? How could you condone the use of something like that."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," He said, his tone for once totally sincere. "Deed shouldn't have made you do that."

"No, what shouldn't have happened," Replied George, her voice steadily rising, "Is you encouraging Max Solveigh and Tim Listfield to put it there in the first place. I'll never forget the sight of that image as long as I live. Every time you've touched me over the last few days, that's all I can see. You, Max Solveigh, Ian Rochester, you're all as vile as whoever made that picture. I wish you had been made to see that picture. Maybe then you'd feel the slightest hint of remorse, though even that's debatable."

"Georgia, darling, listen to me," He said, getting up and moving over to where she sat on the sofa.

"Don't come anywhere near me," She hissed, the adder's fangs dripping with the venom to make him keep his distance. "And don't call me darling," She added. "I don't know how you can sleep at night. But you're sure as hell not going to sleep another night in this house."

"George, this really isn't necessary," He said, trying to calm her down. "We can talk about this."

"You've gone way too far for that this time. I'm going out now," She said, picking up her car keys, "And I don't want to see a single sign of you when I get back." As she passed him, she stood very close to him and said in her quietest most venomous tone, "You ever try anything like that to either John or me again, and it'll be the last thing you do, in politics or out of it. Do I make myself clear?" Fixing him with her hard, unwavering gaze, she waited until he lowered his eyes first. Taking this as a sign of submission, she swept theatrically passed him and out of the front door, slamming it shut as she had irrevocably slammed down the lid on the coffin of their relationship.

When George roared off in the car, she knew there was only one place for her to go. Who was it who'd said that all roads led to Rome, she couldn't remember. But in her case, all roads seemed to lead in one way or another back to John. All her anger at Neil's corrupt handling of the situation having dissipated, George could feel the enormous burden of remorse lying heavy on her shoulders. She'd ruthlessly forced a terminally ill single parent to go through a horrendous court case, she'd relentlessly brow beaten Diana Hulsey via the witness stand, and she'd unknowingly stood back and watched her clients pull such a terrible stunt on John. But that wasn't all. Neil had entirely encouraged George when it came to the pursuit of evidence against Jo. Sure, George was honest enough to admit that she'd been looking for an excuse to punish Jo for stealing her man for years. But that didn't make her continuous sticking in of the knife in any way necessary. George winced as she thought of some of the things she'd said to Jo recently. Most of them really hadn't been called for, but when she got in to her stride, she usually found that she couldn't stop. Envy was a poisonous snake, and possibly the deadliest of all the seven deadly sins. George's jealousy of Jo and her place in John's affections had made her irrational, unhinged, and had shown her up to be the evil little vixen she was. George was used to feeling hard, empty, as if nothing and no one in the world could penetrate her outer layer of scorn and derision. But that didn't mean she wanted to be like this. She'd tried love once, with John, and she had failed. Oh, she hadn't been the only one to fail on that occasion, but John had moved on from their marriage, but she couldn't say the same about herself. Even when it had been going against anything Neil had wanted, she'd always warned John when things were looking sticky for him. She just couldn't help it. As she'd said to him once, he was still her daughter's father. But she was now being forced to face up to the fact that this wasn't all it was. Her connection with John through Charlie, wasn't by any means the reason why she always felt it necessary to protect him from Neil's transparent attempts at sabotage.

John and Jo were sitting close together on the sofa in John's chambers. Coope had long gone home for the day, and they'd come here because Jo's appearance at the Judge's digs would have posed too many questions. No one remarked on John's movements in chambers, so they knew they would be granted some peace in the early evening, with almost no other presence around to disturb them. They had both been to Diana Hulsey's funeral, both having stood one on either side of her little boy, Michael, as they'd watched his mother being lowered in to the ground. Michael had been silent all the way through the service, his eyes fixed on the wooden box that held the only person who'd ever really loved him. Jo was quiet as she relaxed within the gentle warmth of John's arms. There were far too many unwelcome thoughts whizzing around in her head to give her much capacity for conversation. John was incredibly worried about Jo. He realised, as he toyed with a lock of her hair, that she had become far too emotionally involved with Diana Hulsey's case. He briefly wondered if he should have seen this coming. But it was pointless to tread that line of thought. Even if he had taken notice of the warning signs, he wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. When Jo was set on something, she pursued it at any cost. They were both drinking scotch, and a packet of cigarettes and a lighter lay on the table, Jo having made John stop on the way back so that she could buy some. He grumbled about her taking up that particular habit again, but she'd been insistent.

"How long has it been?" He'd asked, when they'd returned to his chambers and she'd lit up as he poured them both a drink.

"About two years," She'd replied, taking a long grateful drag. They'd sat and talked for some time, Jo feeling terrible that Michael had been forced to go back to that impersonal childrens' home. John still didn't think that Jo's idea of adopting Michael was a good one, but he wasn't going to argue about it today. She was sat with her head on his shoulder, each with an arm around the other, taking simple comfort from their close proximity. But when John heard the distinct click clack of a pair of high heels on the tiled corridor leading to his chambers, he knew their peace was about to be shattered.

"That's all I need," he groaned.

"Whoever it is might not be coming to see you," Jo replied.

"I wouldn't bet on it," He said dryly. "I'd recognise those heels anywhere." He was proved right when there came a sharp knock on his door. Jo moved to disentangle herself from him, but he kept his arm firmly round her. When he called, "Come in," the door opened to reveal a fairly miserable-looking George. When she walked in to the room, and took in the two of them seated so close together on the sofa, all she said was,

"Oh," and made a move to retreat. "I can see this isn't a good time. I'll leave you to it." Jo couldn't say if it was something in George's tone, her facial expression, or the way she was so ready to prevent herself from disturbing them, but something told her that this was different from all the other times George had walked in on her and John. For some reason, George clearly needed to talk about something. Why else would she have come looking for John in the first place. But this wasn't all. Jo could detect a distinct lack of the antagonism and fury that had been all too present in George's demeanour towards her over the last few weeks. Jo held up a hand to stop George from leaving.

"Stay," She simply said, trying to put George at her ease. George hesitated, not used to anything remotely resembling encouragement from Jo.

"George, come in and sit down," Said John, also realising that something must have happened to bring George to his door, and taking advantage of Jo's clear acceptance of the situation. George closed the door behind her and moved to stand before them, with only the coffee table separating her from the two of them.

"Before I do," She said, taking the plunge that she wasn't aware she'd been planning on. "I think I need to apologise, to both of you." At these very unfamiliar words, Jo did disentangle herself from John, wanting to give #George her full attention.

"Am I expected to take this seriously?" Asked John slightly scornfully, receiving a glare of monumental proportions from Jo.

"Let's here it, George," She said, just as surprised as John, but nevertheless willing to give George the benefit of the doubt.

"Most of what I've said to you, both during this trial and, if I'm honest, for far too long beforehand, has been well and truly uncalled for," George said, looking straight in to Jo's unwavering gaze. "You really didn't deserve it and I shouldn't have said or done most of the things I have. I shouldn't have brow beaten Diana Hulsey the way I did, and I shouldn't have done my utmost to get you struck off." Jo stared at this woman who, for years, had done nothing but torment her in any way possible. But here she was, offering Jo an olive branch, willing to put aside some of their differences and start again. Their rivalry both in and out of court had been part of Jo's life for so long now, that it felt incredibly odd to finally have some of it taken away.

"Apology accepted, George," Said Jo, her open and honest expression showing her surprise, though not hiding her slight scepticism at George's apparent remorse.

"I don't blame you for not trusting me," Said George, taking note of this in Jo's face. "But I don't have anything to hide, not any more." It was with these last few words that Jo knew without doubt that George's apology was genuine.

"As I said," Affirmed Jo, "Apology accepted." George swiveled her gaze slightly to focus on John.

"When I asked Charlie to warn you to be careful," She began, "I had absolutely no idea they would go as far as they did. You must no that, John."

"I'm listening," He said carefully, not willing to give her an inch.

"I totally underestimated what Neil was capable of. I really never thought he'd stoop quite that low. If I had known, I'd have dropped their case immediately. I'm sorry that, partly because of me, Neil and his cronies put you through what they did." In his typical, actions speak louder than words manner, John stood up, moved round the coffee table and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Would you like a drink?" He said, his actions telling her far louder than any words that she was forgiven.

"Yes please," She said, "I think after today, I need an entire bottle."

"You're not the only one," Said Jo, handing John her empty glass. "We've been to Diana Hulsey's funeral."

"How's her son doing?" Asked George sitting down on the other end of the sofa to Jo, leaving a space in between them for John.

"Not brilliantly," Replied Jo. "He didn't say a word today." John put their drinks on the coffee table and sat down between them, his left arm going round Jo as if of its own accord.

"Jo's thinking of trying to adopt him," Said John. George couldn't hide her surprise.

"Really?" She said, still with no scorn in her tone. "Rather you than me."

"Well, there's no guarantee," Said Jo, cursing John for having brought this up. Realising that Jo would rather not talk about this, George searched for a lighter, easier topic of conversation.

"I didn't know you smoked," She said, looking at the cigarettes and ashtray on the coffee table.

"She doesn't usually," put in John.

"She is the cat's mother," Quipped Jo, "And I thought that today was as good as any day for starting again."

"Quite right," George agreed wholeheartedly. "Neil made me give it up."

"I can't imagine Lover boy making you do anything," Said John dryly.

"You'd be surprised," Said George, the hint of truth making her voice slightly waver.

"Has something happened?" John asked, also not missing the quiver in George's voice.

"Nothing that hasn't been waiting to happen for some time. I told him what a worthless cretin I thought he was and told him to be out of the house before I get back. I could have said an awful lot more, but if I had, I think I'd have come away with a bruise or two."

"If he ever did anything like that," Said John, his voice deep with suppressed anger, "I'd kill him."

"Oh, calm down," Said George dismissively. "I don't think he'd actually do it, but I wasn't quite stupid enough to stay around to find out."

"Why on earth did you get involved with that excuse for a human being to start with?" John asked scornfully.

"John," Said Jo carefully, reaching for a cigarette, "Take a look at some of your own liaisons before you begin criticising anyone else's." The ice was effectively broken and George couldn't help laughing in relief. Jo had, for the moment, saved her from being forced to question herself and her motives too closely. After lighting her own cigarette, Jo held out the packet to George.

"Don't encourage her," Protested John.

"Oh, why not," Said George, taking a cigarette and reaching for the lighter. "I've abandoned more sides to my character than I ever thought possible today, so why stop now." Leaning back in the corner of the sofa, still slightly apart from John and Jo, George took a long, glorious drag of the cigarette. The look of total ecstasy on her face made Jo smile and John roll his eyes to heaven.

"It feels good, doesn't it," Said Jo, not used to seeing George looking relaxed, but thinking that it suited her.

"Oh, how I have missed this," George intoned theatrically, blowing a perfect smoke ring at the elegantly carved ceiling. Jo laughed.

"Give me strength," Grumbled John. "You're both as bad as each other." As John and Jo continued fondly bickering, George simply let their words drift over her head. She couldn't believe she was here, drinking and smoking with the two people who had so successfully irked her for too many years to count. When she finally stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray, John reached out and turned her face towards him. After scrutinizing its every contour, he said,

"You're looking tired."

"So would you after my last few days," She said, hating it when he did this to her. Forcing her to look at him, he frightened her slightly by seeming to look deep in to her soul, not something he'd done for an extremely long time.

"Have you been dwelling on that picture?" He asked gently.

"Why do you ask?" She replied, never one to reveal her cards unless pushed. But this only received a roll of his eyes.

"Because I know you of old, George, and I know that something as shocking as seeing that picture must have been, won't have left you alone in a hurry." Removing his hand from where it had been resting against her cheek, she said,

"Tell me this, John Deed, why are you always right?" There was so much deep-rooted despair in this question that Jo was forced to wonder just how many times George had thought it.

"Infuriating, isn't it," Said Jo, trying to show George that she wasn't the only one to occasionally come under John's critical scrutiny.

"Yes," Said George, the heart felt relief at having the focus of the conversation moved away from her all too evident.

"Hey, come on," He said firmly. "Talk to me."

"I couldn't deal with the fact that Neil had openly known that Max Solveigh and Tim Listfield were prepared to use something like that to remove you. I asked him if he'd known what it was, and when he said no, I spelt it out to him. He was cross with you for making me look at it, but I told him it was his fault for encouraging his lackeys to put it there in the first place. When I left, I told him that if he ever did anything like that to either you or me again, it'd be the last thing he did, in politics or out of it."

"Yeah, well, I don't want you having to live up to a threat like that," He said sternly.

"When will you learn," Said George slightly scornfully, "That with men like Neil, the threat is all that's necessary. If the press knew he'd been involved with something like this, he'd be out of the cabinet like that," She clicked her fingers. "I know it, and he knows it. His political position is all he's ever lived for. He's never needed anyone outside his party, and he certainly doesn't need me." These last words were said in a hollow, resigned tone of voice that told both of them that in spite of her clear anger at what Neil had done, she was still hurting. "To Neil, I was just a useful tool to further his cause, and a good-looking bit of crumpet to increase his status and popularity."

"And which of the two makes you angrier?" Asked Jo. George couldn't help laughing.

"I'm not sure," She said with a small smile. "And do you know the most depressing thing?" She said, turning her gaze back to focus on John. "The only time he wants to sleep with me these days, is when he's failed to pull the rug out from under you." John laughed and Jo couldn't help grinning. "Oh, yes, really bloody funny," Said George, but they could both see the flicker of amusement in her eyes.

"Right, that's it," Said John, clearly coming to a decision. "As today has been a pretty rough day for all concerned, I vote we get drunk and behave outrageously."

"Don't you normally do the second on a daily basis?" Asked George, giving Jo a conspiratorial wink.

"Oh, he certainly does," Replied Jo before John could get a word in. Getting up and walking over to the small drinks cabinet in the corner, John retrieved the whisky bottle and the martini George was drinking, and placed them both on the coffee table. Replenishing their glasses with ice, he returned to the sofa, putting an arm round both of them this time, which initially surprised George, until, with the insidious progress of the alcohol through her veins, she began to relax, to let out some of the tension that had been building ever since she'd seen that picture. It crossed her mind that if someone had told her yesterday that in twenty four hours she would be sitting, talking and getting drunk with both John and Jo, she would have staked her house, her career and much more besides on the opposite outcome. But she knew that it was doing her good. She hadn't relaxed like this for far too long. She briefly found herself wishing that she'd done this sooner.

A few hours later, when they'd all drunk far too much, Mimi left her basket in the corner of his chambers, and began whining and nudging at her lead which hung on a hook by the door. John glanced at his watch.

"It's much later than I thought it was," He said, feeling absolutely no desire to move, but knowing that he must obey his dog's request. As they made their way out of the old court building, Jo said,

"Do judges ever stay here this late?"

"Sometimes," He replied, locking the side door behind them. As they stood in the moonlight, and whilst Mimi sniffed her way round the expanse of lawn, John turned to Jo, put his arms round her and began kissing her. George couldn't blame them. If she was honest, she'd expected something like that to happen sooner with the amount of alcohol they'd all consumed. But when Mimi returned, George cleared her throat and said,

"Whilst I'm enjoying watching Gone With The wind, you two might want to take that somewhere else." Both JO and John looked round slightly sheepishly, having forgotten for the moment that she was there.

"I need to find a taxi," Said George, as they walked across the car park.

"You'll be lucky at this time of night," Replied John.

"Well, I've had far too much to drive."

"Anyway," John insisted, "I don't want you going back there until Lover boy's well and truly gone." He sounded so sober, so firm that George felt momentarily touched.

"Well, what do you suggest I do then?"

"Stay here," Said Jo. "At least I've got somewhere to go," She said, forgetting the problem of transport.

"But I don't want either of you to go," John said, in that pleading, half child-like voice that both women knew only too well.

"I swear you've copied that look from Mimi," Said Jo with a smile.

"Oh no," Said George dryly, "He's been doing that all his life. John, we can't both stay at the digs."

"Why not," He said, clearly having made his mind up. "We may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I've never spent the night with two women before."

"That, I don't believe," Said George, as they walked towards the digs.

"John, I am not going through another round with the professional conduct committee," Said Jo firmly.

"You won't have to," Replied John succinctly. "Mr. Johnson goes off at midnight, and it's past one now. Nobody will know either of you are there."

"I hope so," Said Jo, badly not wanting another ordeal like the past year had been. They were absolutely silent as John let them in to the digs, and as they walked upstairs to his rooms. When he'd closed the door behind them, George said,

"This feels like being seventeen again and creeping in quietly so that Daddy wouldn't know how late I was."

"That wouldn't have been the summer you tried to seduce his gardener, would it?" Said John with a grin.

"Probably," Replied George, not missing a beat. Jo grinned broadly.

A little while later, when they were all lying in John's large bed, George said,

"This has to be the most surreal experience of my life."

"And that really is saying something," Replied John cynically. George simply rolled her eyes at him. He'd found them both T-shirts to sleep in and they were now lying with him in the middle, George on his left and Jo on his right. He had an arm round each of them, the two women lying on their sides, facing him and with their arms round him. They lay there, drowsily talking, both women gradually slipping towards sleep, when they both became preternaturally aware of exactly what John was doing. In having an arm round each of them, he'd found that his right hand was invitingly close to Jo's right breast, and the other to George's left. It was more than he could stand, not to allow both his hands to wander. Both women were suddenly extremely aware of his delicate fingertips, gently moving on the underside of their breasts, for now simply teasing, but moving with infinite slowness towards their pinnacle. They were both slightly surprised at his advance, but not unduly shocked. This was John after all, and he would never pass up the opportunity of such contact with an attractive woman. But neither were sure as to whether he was doing this to the other. But George, not having had this type of contact with John for many years, couldn't keep quiet for long.

"John," She said, in a tone that could bend steel, "Stop, that, right, now."

"Oh, he's doing that to you too, is he," Replied Jo, with a voice deepened by sleep or arousal, George wasn't sure.

"Why?" He asked, "You both like it." As if to demonstrate his point, he grazed a thumb over George's nipple, making her gasp.

"Yes, I do, damn you," She said, frustrated almost to breaking point. "But you shouldn't be doing this." Jo turned her head slightly so she could look in to John's face.

"No way, John," She said, clearly seeing something there to explain his actions.

"John, if you're thinking what I think you are," Said George, "Then no way is absolutely right."

"Why not," He said with a wicked little smile, "that'd be my idea of heaven, that would."

"Well, I can assure you it wouldn't be mine," Replied George.

"No, nor mine either," Added Jo.

"Why?" Having had that little bit too much to drink, John was now the five-year-old, wanting an explanation for everything.

"Well, for a start," Said George, spelling it out as if to a child. "Both Jo and I are straight."

"You're not," He came back quickly. "Going to bed with another woman has always been one of your fantasies." There was a long, awful pause.

"Well, well," Said Jo softly, "You really do learn something new every day."

"Thank, you, very, much," Said George slowly.

"George," Said Jo carefully, "Would it make you feel any better if I said that you weren't the only one?"

George looked over in to Jo's eyes, seeing nothing there but openness and honesty. No scorn, no laughter, just understanding.

"Really?" She couldn't help asking. Jo grinned.

"Yes. The difference is that I've never been stupid enough to tell him about it." George laughed, the tension almost leaving her completely.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" John asked, feeling ever so slightly hurt that Jo hadn't confided this little detail about herself in all the years he'd known her.

"Because," Said Jo, turning her head to kiss his cheek, "It would have given you yet one more incentive to get me back in to your bed, and I had enough trouble resisting you as it was."

"That's as good a reason as any, I suppose," He said dryly. He kept both his hands moving, hoping that they might eventually become aroused enough not to be able to say no.

"You're an extremely bad boy, John Deed," George said after a while, and Jo could hear the clear evidence of arousal in her voice. Jo could feel an almost overwhelming curiosity to know what it would be like to induce the sort of feelings she was experiencing now, in another woman. Her right hand was lying on John's chest, and it took an enormous amount of willpower for her not to move it a few inches, to take over from what she knew John was doing to George. Did George sense Jo's urge, neither of them ever knew. But George suddenly had an instinct of her own. Not two feet away from her, lay another woman, another woman who had expressed an interest in going to bed with someone of her own sex. Almost without any prior thought, George gently detached John's hand from her breast, reached for Jo's, and led it back to her breast. Jo's initial contact with George's small, but perfectly formed breast was a shock to both of them. A bolt of electricity seemed to flash between them, simultaneously making them both stop breathing. John, knowing exactly what George was up to, simply waited. Jo was intrigued. So, this is what, to some extent, her breast felt like to John. It's warm, heavy softness rising to a bullet-like hardness at her nipple. When Jo's thumb slid over this already sensitised extremity, George gasped, and to cover up her utterance, she said,

"Are you sure this is the first time you've done this?" Jo laughed huskily.

"Perfectly," She replied. John was beginning to feel ever so slightly left out, but he knew they had to take this at their pace, not his. At the point when George knew she either wanted more stimulation further down, or to stop for a while to get her feelings under control, her hand closed over Jo's, which was still tracing its gentle way over her T-shirt-covered skin. Jo halted her ministrations immediately she felt George's hand cover hers, thinking that she might just know what the other woman wanted. Threading her fingers through George's, she simply held it for a moment, exchanging a questioning glance with George, asking her if this was really what she wanted. At the faintest of nods from George, Jo led her hand over to a slightly fuller chest. Both Jo and John watched as George's eyes widened. As George began giving to Jo what she'd been receiving moments earlier, Jo returned her hand to George, both mimicking the other's movements. John pushed back the duvet so that he could watch them. Both their nipples were, by this time, pushing at the cotton fabric of the T-shirts he'd given them to sleep in.

"Are you feeling abandoned?" Jo asked, softly kissing him.

"Not enormously," He said, "But this could be better for both of you."

"I don't know," Said George, attempting to talk her way through a gasp of pure pleasure, "This is pretty bloody good as it is."

"Nice to know I'm good at something," Quipped Jo. John, after gently disentangling himself, swiftly turned round so that he was facing them. Instinctively, George and Jo moved closer together, each putting an arm around the other and resuming their former occupation. As John watched, utterly transfixed, both women inched a hand under the other's T-shirt, wanting to touch bare skin. But John felt it was time to insinuate his way in to their progress.

"Can we get rid of these?" He said, gently tugging at what they were wearing. As one, the two women pulled off the only thing that had been covering them and when they lay back down, they simply stared at one another.

"Well," Said George slowly, "That certainly answers a few questions." Jo could feel George's eyes as if they were branding her, forever burning the marks of observation in to her skin. Thinking that she could probably put her finger on exactly what particular question had been answered, Jo wanted to put George at her ease. She stretched out a hand and delicately ran a finger over one of George's breasts. George shivered slightly as Jo did this, as the caress of any man, not even John, had never been so suffused with sheer, unadulterated eroticism. As Jo wanderingly traced the slightly darker skin just under the nipple, George gasped.

"Please don't do that," She said, her entire body suddenly tensing. "It feels far too good."

"I'd have thought that was the point of the exercise," Said John dryly. George began giving Jo similar treatment, partly to show her just why she'd said what she had, and to keep her own mind slightly distracted from the waves of pure, undiluted lust which were steadily drowning her.

John couldn't believe what he was seeing. The two women who'd used him as a reason to verbally scrap most of their lives, were now in his bed, giving him the most erotic display he'd ever seen. Not in his wildest dreams could he ever have thought this might one-day happen.

"I don't think we're the only ones enjoying this," Said Jo, gesturing to John's boxer-clad arousal which, though still covered, was nevertheless making its presence obvious.

"Someone ought to be calling all rise," said George, which made John laugh. Thinking it was definitely time to take the situation a stage further, he gently rested a hand on each of their thighs. As if he'd pressed a well-concealed button, their legs widened simultaneously to give him better access. As John inched a hand between Jo's legs, to seek out her hidden pleasure points, she let out a low, throaty moan which made George smile.

"I wouldn't have thought of you as a moaner," She said, a wicked grin lighting up her face.

"Whereas I've always thought you would be nothing less than a screamer," Replied Jo, still able to verbally give as good as she got.

"It has been known," put in John, insinuating his other hand between George's extremely well sculptured thighs, discovering to his delight that she still preferred to shave.

"Not for a long time," Said George, her reaction to both male and female hands making her spill her innermost thoughts.

"Have you noticed," Said Jo, her voice now matching George's for lack of stability. "That John's left hand is just as good as his right?"

"I know," Replied George, thinking that she couldn't hold out much longer. "You might almost think he'd done this before."

"I wish," came the deep, familiar voice that could turn women to putty in seconds. A few moments later, George stopped touching Jo in favour of grabbing her hand, needing something solid and reassuring to cling on to as she rode the waves of her orgasm. George couldn't help it, she just had to let out a cry of total abandonment as she was tossed here and there by the tide of ecstasy. She squeezed Jo's hand so hard, that Jo would have winced if she'd not followed on the path of pleasure very soon after. Jo's breathing may have quickened, her body going rigid before becoming thoroughly relaxed, but to all intents and purposes she was almost silent. How odd, John thought fleetingly, to see two of his favourite women climax at virtually the same time, and to be able to observe their differences and similarities. But as he gently withdrew his hands, and Jo's breathing returned to normal, they realised that there were tears in George's eyes. John gently moved to lie beside her, placing her now in between him and Jo. Putting his arms round her, he said,

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," She said, to reassure them. "I'm fine. I'd just forgotten how good simple foreplay could be, that's all."

"Lover boy not living up to his name, then?"

"No," George laughed mirthlessly. Jo had been lying slightly apart from them, wanting to give George some space if she needed it. But putting out an arm, George gently drew Jo gradually closer until she could kiss her. To both of them, the gentle feel of soft, female lips was enchanting. John felt acutely touched as he watched them being so gentle with each other. If only they'd done this years ago, it would have saved all three of them an enormous amount of grief.

"So," Said George, finally breaking away from Jo and turning her gaze back on John. "What are we going to do about you?"

John knitted his brows together, clearly deep in thought.

"I've almost had too much to drink for that," He said eventually. George laughed.

"That'd be a first," Said Jo with a broad smile.

"Quite," Agreed George, "John, you've never had too much to drink for that."

"Well, I certainly haven't got it in me to make love to both of you."

"Well, I think that particular pleasure is your prerogative these days," George said, looking straight at Jo.

"Oh, no," Said Jo with a theatrical shudder. "The last time I did that in this bed, I was brought up in front of the professional conduct committee. I'm not tempting fate by doing it again."

"I knew it," Said George in total triumph. "As soon as I saw those photographs, I knew I was right."

"Let's not get in to that now," Said John, wanting to avoid any possibility of an argument.

"Point taken," Conceded George. "But are you absolutely sure about this?" She asked Jo, not wanting to inadvertently tread on any toes. Jo grinned at her.

"Be my guest," She said. George fixed Jo with a very knowing stare.

"You're going to enjoy this, aren't you," She said, with all the certainty of someone well used to ferreting out the truth.

"Perhaps now's the time to find that out," She said, not giving George a straight answer, but nevertheless giving her the go ahead she needed. Whilst George and Jo had been talking, John had divested himself of his boxers and had returned to bed feeling a certain amount of curiosity. What would George be like after all this time? Would he still be able to do it for her in that way? Would she have changed much since they were married? George seemed to sense what he was thinking because she said,

"Do you have any idea how long it's been?"

"About seventeen years?"

"That's a very long time in love and war," Jo commented dryly. As John put an arm round George and began kissing her, George couldn't help her eyes continuously straying to Jo, lying beside them as if this was the most normal thing in the world. But Jo simply smiled at her, always letting her know that this was perfectly okay. George had one arm round John, but she reached out with her other hand to take hold of Jo's left one. Jo took this as a sign that George wanted her to be part of this as much as possible. Turning on to her side in order to be able to reach, Jo traced the planes of John's well-muscled chest, eventually moving lower until she was giving his erection the attention it clearly deserved.

"Don't give him too much," Said George with a smirk. "I would like him to last a little longer than five minutes."

"I have never failed anyone yet on that score," Said John, his voice deep, firm, and almost menacing with the intent to prove his point. As if to further his assertion, he gently detached Jo's hand from it's quest and moved between George's eagerly spread legs. Remembering only too well the exact angle of her body, he launched himself inside her, provoking a gasp from her at the sudden, though nevertheless welcome intrusion. As John moved inside her, George threw her left arm round him, but still kept hold of Jo's hand, wanting her to feel as much of her experience as possible. But not long in to this climb towards pleasure's peak, George became aware of Jo's slightly quickened breathing, and peering over John's shoulder, she could just make out Jo's right hand moving between her legs.

"So," George said, a thoroughly wicked grin on her face. "You're a closet voyeur at heart as well, are you?"

"Tonight seems to be the night for realisations and first times," Replied Jo. Never one to pass up a possible challenge, George reached down, gently removed Jo's hand from between her thighs, and replaced it with her own.

"Oh, wow," Groaned Jo in complete abandon. "It isn't hard to see how you've been making up for some people's inadequacies." George laughed. John inched his right hand between himself and George, to coax her clit in to joining them in the pursuit of ecstasy, and when he knew that both he and George were close, he used his left arm to pull Jo even closer. As their collective orgasm approached, he turned his head enough to be able to seal his mouth on Jo's, to kiss her long and hard whilst he rode the inevitable waves of passion. George's right hand had become somewhat crushed between Jo's legs as John had pulled her closer, but this didn't prevent it from increasing its speed to match what John was achieving inside her. The combination of the unfamiliar yet thoroughly erotic sight of John and George screwing the life out of each other right next to her, and the infinite silkiness of George's fingers on and inside her, served to push Jo over the edge for the second time that night. Though this time, she couldn't help emitting a heart felt cry of her own. When John gently withdrew, and lay down on George's left, George also withdrew her hand with incredible tenderness from between Jo's thighs, putting an arm round her as if to prevent her from going somewhere. They lay, replete, sated, as carnivores after a long overdue feed.

"I'll make a screamer of you yet," Said John, looking over at Jo with a broad smile.

"Oh, will you now," Jo replied, content for the moment to let him think anything he liked. When the heat of passion began to wear off, George reached for the duvet and pulled it over the three of them, herself still lying in the middle. They talked a little longer, but with too much alcohol, and the added bonus of some utterly incredible sex, they all fell asleep relatively quickly, their arms carelessly draped round each other, communal even to the last closing eye.

It was a couple of hours later, and Jo didn't know what had woken her. She was lying on her right side, facing away from the other two, but something, some sound, some feeling, had dragged her from the depths of sleep. She could hear the reassuring sound of John's slow, deep breathing, telling her that he was definitely sound asleep. Listening for the same from George, she could hear the faintest catch in the other woman's breathing, as if she was having difficulty keeping it under control. Slowly turning over to face her, Jo could just make out the slight glisten of tears in George's eyes, and could see that she was definitely wide awake. Gently putting her arms round George, she turned George to face her, almost bringing them skin to skin.

"Did I wake you?" George asked, almost in a whisper.

"Yes," Said Jo, equally quietly. "It doesn't matter."

"I'm sorry," Said George, feeling thoroughly stupid.

"Shh," Said Jo softly, running a hand up and down George's back. Then, taking a stab in the dark, she said, "What really happened with Neil?" George gave Jo a watery smile.

"No more than I said really," She began. "Just, every time he's," She searched for the right word, "Touched me over the last week or so, all I could see was that picture he'd encouraged Max Solveigh to put on John's computer."

"Ah," Responded Jo, understanding in an instant the torment George had been going through. "George, you may have defended some pretty reprehensible people in your time, but even I know you wouldn't have knowingly ignored something like that if you'd known it was going to happen." George laughed softly.

"I'll take that as a complement," She said. Then, turning serious again, she added, "I think I needed what happened tonight."

"Strange as it sounds," Replied Jo, "I think we all did." George moved her face ever so slightly closer until she could gently press her lips on Jo's. They lay quiet for a time, just holding each other close and occasionally kissing.

"Tell me something," Jo said eventually. "Earlier, when you said that a few questions had been answered, what did you mean?"

"I'd always wondered," Replied George, "Why John fell for you in the first place, and why he's stayed hopelessly in love with you all these years. When I saw you tonight, when I saw just what you've been hiding under all those formal suits you wear for court, I knew." She lay a soft, warm hand on one of Jo's breasts, gently stroking the silky soft skin. "You have a cleavage to die for, and legs that seem to go on for ever. John's always had a thing about legs." Jo was temporarily speechless. She'd always thought of George as the glamorous one, the beautiful one, the one who, by virtue of her looks alone, could have men dangling from her fingertips. She found herself slightly blushing at such an open complement.

"Thank you," Jo said eventually. "That's something I would never have expected to hear from you."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Said George dryly. Jo smiled, and began kissing away the remaining traces of George's tears. As they drifted again towards sleep, they moved as one even closer together, their legs entwining, their bodies pressed against each other, their heads, for this night alone, nestled on the same pillow.

When John awoke around eight the next morning, he looked over at the two women, to verify that last night hadn't been just a dream. They looked so peaceful, wrapped around each other as they were, certainly not in the position they'd been when they'd originally gone to sleep. Silently getting out of bed, he pulled on some clothes, and took Mimi downstairs to let her out. George was the next to wake, lying still for the moment, briefly unable to believe what had happened the night before. It wasn't just the sex that made her feel an unfamiliar sense of bewilderment, but the little talk she and Jo had had in the small hours. How could she? How could she, George, have not only slept with her greatest rival, but have divulged quite so many of her vulnerabilities. Gently disentangling herself, so as not to wake Jo, George locked herself in the bathroom and took a long hot shower. In scrubbing away every physical sign of John from her body, she wondered if she was perhaps trying to banish the memories of how good last night had been, not only with John but with Jo too. When she emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel, she could see that Jo's eyes were open, but she didn't acknowledge the fact. She perched on the end of the bed to put her clothes on, her hands shaking with a combination of hangover and lack of sleep. Jo had been watching George's fruitless struggle with the catch of her bra, her hands trembling so much that she just couldn't fasten it. Eventually, Jo sat up, and as George had her back to her, gently removed George's hands and fastened the clasp herself. Still neither of them said a word. Only when George was dressed, and was standing in front of the mirror, attempting to apply the bare essentials of make up, did Jo think it was time to speak.

"If you feel as hung over as you look," Said Jo carefully, "There's some Resolve in the bathroom cabinet." George swung round, a mascara wand in her hand, looking like she'd been miles away.

"I'm all right," She replied slightly unsteadily. "I'm just tired." Jo watched as George turned back to the mirror.

"What happened last night has really thrown you, hasn't it." When George turned to face Jo this time, her eyes were filled with some of the old anger, but tinged not with loathing but with fear and confusion.

"You've always had a knack," She said scornfully, "Of stating the bloody obvious." Jo took a breath to reply, but George hadn't finished. "I have loathed and despised you for too much of my life. The total animosity between us has been part of my identity, part of who I am for more years than I care to remember. But now, that part of me is gone, and I don't know how to feel." Tears rose to her eyes, but she furiously blinked them away. "I'm no longer who I thought I was." Picking up her handbag, she stalked downstairs, to see John drinking a cup of tea and reading the paper.

"I was just going to bring you some tea," He said on seeing her.

"No need," Said George shortly. "I'm not staying. Jo might like some, though."

"Are you all right?" He asked in concern, seeing that something had seriously upset her. Ignoring his question, George moved to open the lounge door. But just before she did, she turned to face him.

"John, I'm going to give you one little piece of advice. Don't screw up with Jo the way you did with me. You've got something worth hanging on to, so don't do your usual and throw it away for the next nameless fling that catches your eye. Jo doesn't deserve it." Opening the door, she left him, looking after her with a feeling of complete astonishment. He'd never expected anything like this from George, not ever, which made him wonder if this time, she might just be right.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

John turned away from the door in total puzzlement, as the sound of the revved up car faded into the air, as did the exhaust smoke. The evening and the

morning after had not gone according to plan and he felt a disturbing sense of being askew with the world.

He quietly closed the door to maintain the cover to the world of his outward respectability and resolved to take George's advice and devote his attention

to Jo. She smiled at John as he slid back into bed and assumed the familiar role of the morning after the night before which was a comfortable and familiar

ritual from over the years. This time around wasn't quite as familiar, though.

"Well, that was quite a night we had last night," John led off in his hearty manner, which Jo thought did not convince himself.

"Events were certainly an eye opener. I hardly expected to find myself in the same bed as both you and George at the same time," Came Jo's dry response.

"It goes against the habit of a lifetime. Still, I found out that I had more in common with George than I ever thought I had."

"You mean when you confessed your attraction to women……."

"Confession, John? Just telling it like it is," Challenged Jo.

"Why did you never tell me, Jo, that you were attracted to women?" John asked Jo with a totally puzzled look in his eyes.

"You never asked," Jo said flatly.

"I can see the justice in your remark," John said, sensing a slight defensiveness in her tone and attempting to suppress any hint of criticism. There was

a distinct feel of the day after the party when all of them, in so many ways, had been like planets that had habitually circled round each other in their

predetermined fashion being unaccountably forced out of their orbits. "It's just that I thought I knew you probably as much as I know anyone, come to think

of it….."

"…..as much as George," Jo softly added.

"You're right, Jo. I have to admit that you have been a part of my life as much as George has been." After nodding in agreement at the justice of Jo's remark,

he had continued briefly and then stopped short as he did not know where to go on from there.

John rolled fractionally away from Jo so that he couldn't see her face but he could never escape her voice and her thoughts that easily. There was an unsettling

sense that he had removed one of the certainties in his life, that Jo had always remained true to a vision that he had always had in his mind, like a painting

on the wall, of a woman whom he idealised.

"Sometimes it takes a lifetime to know someone, John," Jo's steady voice stole into his senses with the feel of all the ancient female goddesses dispensing

mysterious wisdom that was beyond his reach. He looked up at that second and there was Jo's familiar attractive sharp features and slightly ruffled short

bob cut and wide open alert eyes.

"I don't understand, Jo. Perhaps you could explain," John's intensely blue eyes and that familiar melodious voice asked her.

Jo turned away from John and lay back staring at the ceiling to gather together the criss crossing trains of thoughts that whirled around in her head.

In retrospect, last night was an event waiting to happen." She had been long used to riding the rollercoaster of work as a barrister and giving each case

her undivided attention but the Diana Halsey case had grabbed her emotions in so many ways. It had started undramatically as a civil case which was not

the line of work that she normally handled and would not involve a question of guilt or innocence and whether the man in the dock would go down or be set

free. Haggling over how much money would be prized out of the clutches of One Way PLC Mobile Phone Company should not have been the stuff of drama. That

had been the case until she had met Diana Halsey and had come to utterly admire the steadfast way that she had striven to seek proper restitution for the

way a harmless everyday consumer product had burnt its way into her brain cells. The real prospect of her imminent mortality had hung over her like a dark,

nebulous cloud which, too late, the hospital had given a name to. Her little boy, bursting with so much promise, had come to be as vulnerable as she had

been when her husband had died and her own uncertain grip on herself was all that stood between her own sons and the outside world.

She knew that, if she had a fault, it was that she was in danger of letting the strongly emotional side of her character infiltrate the coldly analytical

world of evidence, witnesses, legal precedents and the creation of her case which she had to build up into a solid structure, safe from the stresses that

the opposing council would place upon it. To do her job properly, she had to place herself in the mind of that opposing council and work out what he or

she would do to undermine her own case. It was a skill which she had long developed but it was no mere cold-blooded forensic skill. She had been brought

up in John Deed's school of passionate social justice which had chimed in with her emotional take on life and which she had adapted to her own style. Others

could treat her calling as a career option but she could not. She had successfully maintained a Faustian pact with her emotions until……that fateful time

when the expensively suited ruthlessly enterprising men in the dock chose to besmirch the name of the finest judges in the judiciary with an outrageous

electronic concoction of lies. Only the nebulous electronic world of the internet could concoct and plant child pornography into the small rectangular

everyday laptop computer in the very same chambers where she George and John had been as outrageous as John had suggested they be. Perhaps that night had

been a totally necessary release from the immediate stresses and strains of that case and much more besides.

So, how should she answer John's question as the words faded on the air?

"I don't really know, John, but I'll try. It's that I've never had the proper chance to explore myself. You know from when you first knew me that I'm pretty

conventional.

I've always had that idea of myself partly because that's the way my parents thought that I was. I had a normal stable upbringing and went to university

and pursued a law degree. To women of my generation, options in life were opening up that were denied to my mother's generation as her role in life was

keeping a nice home and being there to support my father, more than support him when he became an alcoholic. I had choices and I thought I made pretty

sensible choices as I went through adolescence…….."

John's quick mind picked out that very revealing phrase 'went through' as if it were an inevitable process. To John, that was a period in his life that

he had gloried in outrageously and perhaps something in him still did….

"………I never got caught up in ideas of free love or ended up getting pregnant, or got involved in the drugs scene as some of my contemporaries did. I always

had some sort of a purpose in life which becoming your pupil brought into focus. In my last year at university, I met my husband and fell in love in the

way that you do when you are twenty one - you did that with George, I'm sure of it……."

John could not help but betray a flicker of recognition of that far off reality and, yes, Jo was telling a fragment of the story of his life also.

"…….To me, taking a few years off to have Tom and Mark was one side of my life, the other being to not waste what I'd learned in getting a law degree. At

that time, you'll remember that there were very few women in the law. Most of my university friends studied English or Social Studies. That seemed not

definite enough for me, it didn't appeal to me, as I was ambitious. Everything in life seemed straightforward and logical to me as it does when you're

young………"

"….to me, Jo, you're still as young as ever you were……." John's smooth compliment intervened in order to make himself feel secure.

"Thank you, John, but the mirror first thing in the morning is beginning to tell a different story. Anyway, to continue, the first knock to my rosily optimistic

logical view of the world came when my husband fell ill. It was hard for me to appreciate how shocking that is when you're young and you never conceive

of anyone near you dying. A part of you slaves away harder at both ends of the day, just to keep going when I was in bar school and as a very young barrister

and the other side of you goes home to nurse a dying man. The pressure built up, a bit at a time, but I was young and energetic. I thought I could cope

with it. Then I made the first mad move of my life when I fell in love with you……." Jo stopped, as the last words replayed themselves in her mind and wondered

if those words were somewhat ill chosen. Certainly, her logical mind pointed one way but the signposts of her emotions indicated a totally opposite direction.

"It wasn't something that I chose, I could say to myself that I fell under the spell of an attractive older man, you will always be an attractive older

man," Jo's sudden smile brought a warm feeling of appreciation to John and the sense of depth and time in their relationship. "…..but it was meeting the

one man anywhere who had the ideas and dreams that I had and took it that tantalising bit further. Of course I could not own up to it as a respectably

married woman. But "………and Jo struggled for both thoughts and words……"it took entering your world to become unrespectable," Jo finished somewhat ungrammatically

as she threaded her uncertain way through her thoughts.

"But what's this to do with being attracted to other women?" John in his logical, calling to order judge's role that leaked into moments like even these.

"Don't rush me, John. You know that's not a good idea especially when a woman starts talking," Jo gently rebuked him with the hint of a smile.

"Don't I know it," Sighed John when he had wondered in the past just why the one faculty in George would never give up on him and the times he had waited

with patient uncomplaining forbearance not knowing that George's last minute adjustments to her makeup was made doubly more difficult when she was hyper

conscious of the incredibly irritating and ostentatious way that he was uncomplainingly patient.

"It wasn't like me to sleep with you in those snatched hours away from my claustrophobic responsibilities which had become all too much for me, but I'm

not blaming you," Jo hastened to add before proceeding in a calmer vein. "I am owning up to freely admitting that a part of me, a large part of me," Jo

hesitated as she adjusted her perception of herself as she fully owned up to herself. "Wanted to be loved, not as the mother of my children, not as a dutiful

wife but for me, Jo Mills. I knew that the love of my life wasn't my husband, deeply devoted to him though I was. That wasn't enough despite the guilt

I felt for cheating on him. Let's call it by its proper name. Despite all that, I knew that you gave me what I wanted most as a woman however socially

dangerous it was, perhaps that was part of the attraction."

"You have a problem Jo of enjoying your pleasures, but I remember that first night very well, sneaking you past the brethren as they slept self righteously

in their beds, their consciences clear. It was a miracle of nature the way they squared their consciences with the moral compromises they made when some

unfortunate individual was placed in the dock, or otherwise, if they let off the privileged with a token slap on the wrist."

Jo elbowed him in the ribs, as she poured scorn on that adolescent part of John's nature."

"Being hauled up before the PCC has cured me of that kind of seeking out of danger."

"So what is the answer to my original question?" John's soft voice broke in on Jo's thoughts.

"You never give up, John Deed," Jo sighed at the incorrigible, sometimes infuriating but always fascinating man whom she could have left behind so many

times in their on off relationship but never did. "You're determined to wring the truth out of me. Just how long did it take for you to extort George's

little confession from her and how did she react to your underhand tactics?" Jo retorted in her mock scolding fashion.

"George is not as adept or as patient at leading me off on long detours as you are and was far more irascible than you when she was finally cornered. And

now, your turn, Jo?" John enquired with that mixture of politeness and cool impertinence that was one of his stocks in trade.

"I give up, John. Let's just say that it's only as Tom and Mark are getting older, more independent that I've finally had time to wonder just who I am.

Everyone needs to face that question, not once in their lives but four or five times. All my roles and responsibilities and such a reprobate responsibility

as you are, John Deed," And here Jo ran her forefinger along the line of John's nose. "Have taught me of my relationships with men. Somewhere along the

line, in glimpsed moments, of faraway times as a carefree student when I had more of the company of women around me I wondered just how my feelings were

of warm friendship. Of course, I was sure that other women were as straight as I was. It was a natural assumption that I never questioned. It was not in

the teenage magazines that you bought at the time. Hanging out with girlfriends - that word has a whole other meaning nowadays - was commiserating why

the boy you fancied didn't fancy you. Growing up as a teenager in those quote permissive unquote times did not lend anyone to think that there were alternatives

to men. I forgot about it in the rush of events and most of all, furthest away from my imaginings that George Channing would ever figure in any of my fantasies."

John laughed with Jo at the strange way events had turned out.

"It all started at the end of the Diana Halsey case. We had been going at each other hammer and tongs right the way through the court case as you will remember….."

"………it's moments like that when I ask myself why is there such an unforgiving God and why he has it in for me when there is only one of his commandments

that I break on an occasional basis, that is if I believe in God," Groaned John.

"………a bit more than occasional," grinned Jo. "Anyway, there was a moment when George revealed her vulnerabilities right before my eyes and it seemed that

I could see it and nobody else. George was being far more gentle on her than I expected to be. The way in which she talked as if bringing up a child on

her own without a partner was talking far more about herself than the witness she was questioning. She was much more stressed about herself than I've ever

seen her before. When One Way cut their losses at the very end, George's smile of satisfaction seemed extraordinarily out of character for her. George

is a bad loser and seeing her client's case go down ought to have made her publicly bitchy and vindictive to both of us and to stay behind and vent her

fury on me that it was our supposed pillow talk that had decided the case. I hardly expected that we would act like two naughty schoolgirls hatching some

secret conspiracy to fleece One Way as much as we did between us. It made me see quite another side to her character."

"I was not as fortunate as you, Jo, in my reminiscences of that trial. My last vivid memories were of commending my future and my very soul to the considerable,

if irregular talents of Mr. Arditi in erasing the material on my computer which those morally corrupt and outright criminal 'wealth creators' which, if

they are ever before me again in a court of law………"

John's voice in its vain attempt to suppress emotion let the expression of nausea creep into his voice especially when he articulated the words 'wealth

creator' in the manner of simultaneously trying to dislodge an unpleasant taste in his mouth.

"Returning to the matter of George," Jo brought the discussion back to order, "I did wonder at the time just how far she was complicit in that conspiracy…."

"……Knowing George of old, I know only too well how relentless she is in pursuing her own ends and to begin with I suspected that she may have played some

part in that conspiracy…." Interjected John.

"…….but it was when she came straight out with the way that she dissociated herself from her client's actions and apologised, that I was convinced. George

is not the apologising kind, least of all to me. That was when I started to see her in a different light and started to gain a background glimpse of the

George Channing she has denied to the world and herself all these years. It was as if a persistent nagging toothache had been magically removed at a time

when I mentally felt freer than ever before. Which brings us to the events of last night."

"Don't forget, our lives will change if your application to foster or adopt Diana Halsey's child is successful……."

"OK, say that I'm on holiday till then."

"And last night was a holiday, Jo?"

Jo's whole souled smile told John and herself how much that night had taken her out of herself and that, even in her tousled unmade up guise first thing

in the morning, she rarely lost that sense of sophistication in the way that the even pacing of her words flowed gently over him. She had enchanting breasts

and long legs too, hidden somewhere under the quilt.

"I've always seen George as that hard, unfeeling, self centred woman who would stoop to the most underhanded tactics to achieve her ends in court - and

outside, too.

As soon as she entered the room, my nerve endings could sense her and alert me to the next cheap insult and I loved hitting her back with the most cutting

words that I could hurl at her. It became quite addictive," Jo smilingly confessed.

"I remember it well." The rueful intonation in John's voice, raised eyebrows and studied ironic quotation accompanied his words. "It all sounds like my

marriage to George as it ended up."

"Last night was the very first time I've been allowed a backstage view of George without the theatrical façade she presents to the world. Quite a revelation,"

Smiled Jo in a satisfied manner as the more physically tender moments with her lent its rich colours to the memories. "I always knew how much she loathed

and detested me but I never knew how much it had consumed her whole life. She told me that now that's gone, it leaves her with a real problem of who she

is."

"It can't be from packing in that drip Neil Houghton. I remember her telling me that she'd have had more fun with a Church Minister and any goodbye letter

to him can't have had any more passion and drama than letting BT know that she'd changed her account to a rival company."

Jo laughed at that one, in an utterly free and easy manner but replied in a more serious vein.

"It goes deeper than that, John. She told me that every time Neil's touched her over the last week or so, all she could see was that horrible picture he'd

encouraged Max Solvay to put on your computer. That's really haunting her in a way that she won't be able to get out of her head, plus the thought that,

perfectly innocently, she was associated in any way in representing a client like that."

John fell silent. Those words reran in slow motion the film inside his head of the perfect façade on her face cracking in total shock and disgust and, for

the first time for a very long time, worrying for John how 'frightfully dangerous' his half formed plan to face his invisible accusers was.

"Incidentally, John, why are we talking quite so much about George?" Jo grinned in total amusement. "The last thing we end up doing when you see me is to

talk about George."

"Perhaps because we're all friends now?" John stated flatly, stating the very undramatic, obvious face that had changed the habits of a decade so that their

world would have to start again from scratch. Even with everything that had happened last night between the three of them, the word 'friend' as used between

Jo and George and john and George was startlingly new. It was as if a thick blanket of winter snow had gently descended on them, covering the familiar

view of the landscape with a fresh white blinding texture, covering all that had lain beneath and no human footprint had dared explore.

John looked quizzically at Jo as questions bubbled to the surface of his mind that were shaped by words with which to utter them. Where did all these changes

leave the relationship between himself and Jo, that very familiar constant being on whom he could depend along with his unflinching sense of justice in

his restless and turbulent world?

"You've got something serious on your mind, John. Whatever it is, we can deal with it. Right now, I feel we can deal with anything," Jo asked softly in

that reassuring manner of hers and stretching herself luxuriously. It was Jo's total self assurance that made John ultimately relax about himself and feel

protective of George's brittle hard personality which seemed insecure in comparison with Jo. John recalled with fondness last night, the gentle banter

between the two of them where they stroked and reassured each others feelings as the precursor to the physical generosity of spirit later on that evening.

"I was merely curious to ask you what made you touch George in the first place. Only a few days ago, I would have predicted that you would only have touched

her with a blunt instrument, and only with sufficient force," John answered slowly in his measured tones and, for once, he did not cover up the lightly

played joke.

"I can think of a number of reasons, John, As the evening went on, the barriers had come down between the two of us. It was more than ever, because I had

never experience anything like that before in my life. Making love with you is one of those pleasures in my life over the years, which I shall never tire

of. I've been used to glaring at George from across the other side of the court, seeing her dressed in her usual power suits and gown and wig. It was you,

John, who lured the two of us into your bed," Jo reminded John with the hint of a smile. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be in the same bed as

you and her, wearing one of your T-shirts and later wearing nothing at all."

"The evening went somewhat differently than the way I had…"

"….planned it, John. George and I know you only too well. Anyway, touching George answered one of those questions that I have asked myself over the years,

of what you must feel when you touch me and when we make love. Now I know how you feel. Remember what I told you of when I was a carefree student?"

John smiled easily as Jo's gentle words seemed to shuffle a mental jigsaw in his mind where some of the pieces were still disconnected. Her words pushed

the angular shapes up against each other so that they slid into place. The evening had not turned out quite the way he had expected but it had provided

him the unexpected alternative finale which was just as good as his dreams.

"I've always been the sensible one with one or two lapses. The first time I acted out of character, or different to the way everyone thought I was, myself

included, was to fall in love with you. The second occasion that I acted that way was to sleep with you and George."

There it was, John smiled to himself. The classic Jo Mills clear as a mountain pool simple logic which explained everything.

"You have managed to illuminate so much for me this morning, more than I have ever had explained for a long time," John's voice shook very slightly with

emotion.

"I ought to tell you something that George said to me. She told me that now she knows why you were attracted to me and why we stayed together for all these

years. Her exact words were, that I have a cleavage to die for, and legs that seem to go on for ever and that you've always had a thing about legs. I've

never heard George be as generous to anyone before, especially as I've always thought that she was the glamorous one of the two of us."

John's eyes were wide open in wonder for a very long time as a rich mixture of feelings mingled inside him, free from his overriding need to structure and

order his thoughts, free from his own self image as an 'unemotional man'. There was no need of this and nothing to be afraid of. Even the skin on his face

was subtly smoothed down and relaxed, or so it appeared to Jo. John felt an incredible wave of tenderness, which was so utterly new to him in view of the

years of bitterness. It was as if she were the Prodigal Daughter who had returned home to him, in being so unstintingly generous to Jo. He looked afresh

at Jo, too, who was possessed of that serene beauty. Something in him felt humble and at the same time, at peace with himself, which was a rare sensation

for John who was essentially a proud man. He felt happy with himself as Jo and George were at peace with each other after all these years. He had been

carrying a burden on his shoulders for so long and it was such a part of his existence that he had taken it for granted and now it was magically lifted

from his shoulders. Another slow moving thought, like a ripple in a slow moving river, told him that George should not underrate herself, and ought not

to feel unloved, unworthy and in any way inferior to Jo, even out of generosity. Their attractiveness ought not to be compared with each other but should

stand proud and unashamed and to fear no competition. This was the real reason he had pleaded with them both not to go home. It was not for sex alone though

he didn't know that at the time.

"When I saw you kissing George last night, something told me that there was something somehow right about it though I could not put it into words. Now I

know," John volunteered his thoughts into words to Jo and with a rare absence of affectation in his voice, It wasn't as hard as he thought as he slipped

into saying the words out loud.

"You're learning, John," Jo smiled, drawing herself close to him and pressing her lips to his, slowly and softly.

"That's the very first time you've spoken of your feelings without me having to gently coax the words out of you."

A shaft of sunlight slipped past the stormy dark clouds outside and into the room where John and Jo lay together and where George had been and brightened

their hopes for the future. Jo wound her arms round John's neck, and John clung to Jo with sheer simple human affection.

It was several hours later when they dressed and lay around, both feeling that dreamy lazy feeling from the sexual passion of the night before and the mending

of bridges between them of the morning after, with a new understanding. They sipped a cup of coffee and Jo gently smoked a cigarette and even this floated

past John in his mellow mood.

A nagging thought began to worry away at Jo's conscience. It was a perfect day for Jo and John but what was happening with George right now? A film was

replaying in her mind accompanied by a ticking clock and Neil Houghton was one of the players in the cast. From meeting him on a handful of occasions,

something about him rubbed her up the wrong way immediately. Her snap judgement was that the rising smooth suited politician with that off the peg charm

was fit company for that ruthless conniving barrister who had it in for her. Yet George was by nature hot blooded and her anger at her was that of a jealous

woman who at least got her anger out of her system. Neil was a cold-blooded man who saw opponents as obstacles to be trampled aside and under his feet

and he never looked back. In her mind, his agreement to the planting of child pornography on John Deed's computer was active complicity. Jo sensed in his

personality a curious dissociation between the potential violence of what he was capable of and his emotionally straightjacketed personality. The amorality

of his public actions and his private life was all of a piece. She had prosecuted such men for domestic violence but they were ordinary people, not politicians

who were protected by the full weight of the spin-doctors of the Whitehall PR machine.

"What about George? I'm worried about what she may be walking into if she goes home with that ex partner of hers," Jo had great difficulty in framing words

to describe the man and would not dignify him in giving him a name.

"You're right, Jo. I'd better see how she is going on. If that spineless apology for a human being has done anything to harm her, he'll have me to deal

with."

"Careful, John," Jo smiled. "I would not want to be representing you in an assault case and for you to stand in the dock. He's not worth getting into trouble

over. Losing the One Way case will have landed him in enough hot water with his precious Cabinet friends. He'll be yesterday's man and that is quite enough

revenge."

John smiled as he slipped on his coat, reflecting on the curious course of events so that Jo was actively urging him to look after George.

"And when you talk to George, tell her anything that I've said to you. The present is an open book between all of us. Tell her," Jo looked round the room

as if for inspiration. "Just tell her that everything will be all right."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

It was early afternoon, and George was sat at home, curled up in the right hand corner of her sofa. Neil had listened to her last and final order, to be

out of her house, because when she'd returned, there hadn't been a single one of his belongings left behind. She'd been mightily relieved by this, because

company of any kind but especially his company, wasn't something she felt in the mood for. She didn't think she'd ever felt so confused in her life. Twenty-four

hours ago, she'd been having a row with Neil, and now, what was she now, who was she now? She had slept with John again, she'd slept with another woman,

she'd slept with Jo. Jo, Jo of all people! What did that make her? She just didn't know. What had happened last night had been incredible, she could never

say otherwise. But where did it leave them all now. Sleeping with John, having him inside her like she'd had so often when they were married, had brought

so many good and bad memories back to the surface. But that wasn't quite true. Most of the bad memories had always been there, ready to fuel her insults

to both John and Jo. But it was the re-emergence of the good memories that was hurting her now. Having him bring her to orgasm, not once but twice, had

brought back the good times, the loving times, the times she and John had made love so passionately that they could have lit the whole of central London

for a week. He'd made her writhe and cry out in total ecstasy, and last night had only served to remind her afresh of how good they used to be together.

She didn't cry, she didn't have the energy to cry. But she had picked up some cigarettes on her way home. This was the one concession she was prepared

to make with regards to the events of last night. Besides, if Neil did decide to try and come back, it would be a useful tool in putting him off.

When she heard the doorbell ring, she ignored it. She had a slight inkling as to who it might be, and if it really was John, then she didn't want to speak

to him. John had always had the thoroughly annoying habit of making her talk about anything she was feeling. He didn't seem to understand that just occasionally,

just once in a while, she didn't want to talk to anyone. But when the doorbell rang a second time, and she realised that she wasn't going to get any peace

until she opened the door and told whoever it was to go away, she dragged herself out of the depths of the sofa, attempted to smooth some of the creases

out of her tired face, and went to open the door.

"Oh," She said, seeing John standing on the doorstep. "It's you." As she stood aside to let him in, she caught sight of her face in the hall mirror. She

looked slightly tousled, very tired and not at all amused with life. "Would you like some tea or something?" She asked, walking towards the kitchen.

"No thank you," He said calmly. "I'd just like to talk." Stopping in her tracks, she turned to face him.

"Talking usually takes two of us, John, and for once in my life, talking isn't something I'm remotely in the mood for." Very slowly, he approached her,

giving her plenty of time to retreat. But she didn't, she just didn't have the energy left in her to fight any more. Putting his arms round her, he gently

pulled her against him. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed in the combined aroma of her perfume with a faint trace of cigarette smoke. It was perhaps

this, more than anything else from the past twenty-four hours that brought the memories back for him. George had smoked most of the time they were married,

and the combination of these two so familiar smells took him briefly back to those wonderful, early, utterly hedonistic days when they hadn't been able

to keep their hands off each other.

"Has Haughton left?" He asked in to her hair.

"As there's not a single thing of his left in this house, and he's even left his key behind, yes, I suppose he has. I wouldn't have wanted you to walk in

to a war zone," She said, half smiling, half-serious.

"That's why I came," He said, almost consumed by the familiarity of having her in his arms again. "I wanted to make sure you were all right. Jo wanted me

to see how you were as well." At the mention of Jo's name, George stiffened. Gently detaching herself from John's embrace, she allowed him to take her

hand and lead her in to the lounge. When he sat near to her on the couch, she moved slightly away from him, and lit herself a cigarette.

"Are you still hiding behind that old barrier?" He asked with a smile.

"Only when it's necessary," She replied, taking a long drag as if to give her courage for what was coming.

"You look a bit hung over," He said, trying to stay on safer ground, but knowing that there were things they had to talk about.

"No," She said, "Just tired."

"And somewhat confused?" He suggested. She laughed unsteadily.

"Yes, you could say that. How's Jo?"

"She's fine, concerned about you, but fine."

"She's no need to be," Said George, but at the same time feeling touched that Jo was worried about her.

"Talk to me, George," He prompted gently.

"No," She said quietly, though with a hint of desperation.

"Yes," He said firmly, making her realise that she wasn't going to get out of this easily if at all.

"What's there to talk about?" She said lightly, but with her voice slightly higher than normal. "In the past twenty four hours, every thought I've ever

had concerning Jo has been irrevocably altered. I couldn't go back to the way we were a fortnight ago if I tried. Last night was one of the most incredibly

erotic things I've ever done in my life, and after some of the things we did when we were married, that really is saying something." A slight smile turned

up the corners of his mouth as he remembered some of their sexual exploits. "I didn't expect to ever find anything in common with Jo," George continued.

"We've been rivals, enemies for far too long. It's a state of being I'd come to understand. Discovering that I could really come to like several aspects

of her wasn't ever supposed to happen." Stubbing out her cigarette, she leaned back in the corner of the sofa.

"And is altering the way you feel about Jo really such a bad thing?"

"No," She said, "It's not a bad thing, just an odd thing. It's been second nature to me to loathe everything Jo stands for, to insult her at every possible

opportunity. It's just going to take a while to get used too, that's all."

"I'm not entirely sure what she meant," John said, "But Jo asked me to tell you that everything's all right." Realising that Jo was referring to both the

conversation they'd had in the small hours, and the few harsh words George had said to her that morning, she felt incredibly touched. It hadn't been necessary

for Jo to reassure her, but she had. John slowly reached for George, and they moved together, their arms round each other and with her head on his shoulder.

"Do you know something," He said, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, "Making love to you again was incredible." A slow, soft smirk spread across her face.

"So I gathered," She drawled dryly. Then, turning serious, she said, "It sounds ridiculous, but having you inside me again, it felt like coming home." He

smiled.

"You're still beautiful," He said softly.

"Not today I'm not," She said with total certainty.

"Jo told me what you said about her."

"I meant it," She said simply. "I finally got to see what's kept you pursuing her all these years."

"It isn't just that," He said in mock disgust.

"Oh, I know, but it's certainly had something to do with it."

"Jo also told me, how you've been feeling when in bed with Haughton."

"Oh," Said George dully. "I thought she might. It's okay, really. I'll get over it."

"It's bound to haunt you for a while."

"I know it will. You don't land yourself, however innocently, in the midst of something so deplorable and not have it haunt you for a while afterwards."

"You know, I've never stopped worrying about you."

"No, nor have I you," She said with a slightly deprecating smile. She wasn't all that surprised when he tilted her face up to his so that he could kiss

her. She kissed him back for a while, simply allowing a gentle wave of contentment to drift over her.

"We shouldn't be doing this, John," She said, moving her face slightly away from his, but still remaining within the comforting security of his embrace.

"I know," He said regretfully. "But it's never quite that simple, is it."

"John, it would be far too easy for both of us to slip back in to what we know best, but you at least have a reason for not doing that. You're an extremely

lucky man, John Deed, and Jo doesn't deserve to be hurt again, especially not through me. I've done that too much in different ways over the years."

"You really have changed," He said in wonder, just staring at her.

"Give it time and we'll see," She said with a smile.

It was a few days later, when Jo and George eventually ran in to each other. They'd both had a hard day in court, Jo defending a case in front of John,

and George defending one in front of Monty Everard. It was nearing five on the Wednesday afternoon, and Jo was in the ladies', stood in front of the mirror,

trying to repair the day's ravages to her tired face. She heard the door open behind her, and saw George's reflection as the other woman moved in to the

room. She gave George a brief, exhausted smile.

"You look like I feel," Said George, moving to stand beside her and to dig out her own make up.

"Well, John at his most infuriating doesn't do much for a person's sanity," Jo said dryly. George laughed.

"At least Monty Everard has the decency to be predictable."

"Yes," Said Jo with a smile. "Not something John could ever be accused of."

"John came to see me last weekend," Said George, and then kicked herself for introducing the dreaded topic. Why, oh why had she said that?

"He said he might," Replied Jo, feeling George's instant recoil at her own words. Then, finally deciding to be the one to take the plunge, she said, "Do

you fancy a drink?"

"Wasn't that how we started last week?" Said George, the glint of amusement in her eyes. Jo was the one to laugh this time.

"Yes," She said, "I suppose it was." Then, nailing George to the spot with a soul-searching stare, she said, "But I'm not inviting John to join us this

time. Are you?" They'd both turned slightly so that they were looking in to each other's eyes, their faces only a few inches apart.

"No," Said George a little unsteadily. "I'm not." Jo's ever so unsubtle invitation, given in that incredibly deep, extremely sexy, husky voice, had made

all George's nerve endings react as though she'd been suddenly injected with adrenaline. Jo just looked at her for a moment, taking in George's slightly

widened eyes and the heightened colour in her cheeks. If she wasn't mistaken, George was aroused simply by either her voice or their close proximity. That

certainly boded well for the evening ahead. As they walked together out of the court and towards a wine bar George had sometimes gone to with Charlie,

they were unaware of John watching them from the window of his chambers. As he saw them cross the road together, clearly talking and clearly happy, he

couldn't help but smile.

When they'd found a table and George had returned from the bar with a scotch for Jo and a very large, very dry martini for herself, Jo clinked her glass

with George's and said,

"I think it's about time we got to know each other."

"Yes," Said George, "I think it's long overdue." As they both began to relax, they started talking about things nearer and nearer to home. It occurred to

both of them, that they had a lifetime's catching up to do. For over seventeen years, they'd loathed, hated and despised each other, not wanting anything

in common. But now that the barrier of animosity had been so irrevocably removed, they were finding that they really could enjoy the other's company. Jo's

dry sense of humour and George's caustic comments on everything from bringing up children to the state of the legal system seemed to provide the balance

that the other needed. But it was George who eventually found herself raising the subject of last week. Lighting a cigarette to give her thinking time

if she needed it, she said,

"So, was sleeping with another woman something you've really always wondered about?" Jo had been about to take another sip of her drink, but put it down

in favour of answering.

"It was something I had an interest or more accurately a curiosity in doing when I was a student. But other concerns, other responsibilities took over and

pushed it to the back of my mind. What about you?" George took a drag of her cigarette.

"I've always found other women attractive, I've just never done anything about it before. John dragged that little confession out of me when we were married."

"He's very persistent, isn't he," Smiled Jo.

"Yes," Said George with feeling. "If he's determined to know something, you've got no chance. What happened last week, that really was his idea of heaven,"

George finished quietly.

"And was it yours?" Asked Jo, again fixing George with that hypnotic stare that she didn't seem able to avoid. She opened her mouth and then shut it again.

"Before it happened," She said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I'd have said it was my idea of hell." Jo grinned broadly in wholehearted agreement.

"But when we," She looked wildly about as if searching for the right words, "Did what we did, it was the most erotic feeling I've ever had in my life."

To her horror, she found herself blushing. Jo laid a gentle hand over one of George's.

"George," She said with a slight smirk. "If you can't talk about it, you shouldn't be doing it."

"You said doing," Replied George, the laughter lines now dancing round her eyes.

"What?" Asked Jo, not immediately understanding.

"You said doing, as in the present tense." It was now Jo's turn to look slightly sheepish.

"Did I?"

"Yes," Said George mockingly. "You certainly did." She turned her hand over so that she was softly caressing Jo's. "But I'm not complaining."

"That's good to hear," Jo replied equally softly. Feeling a sudden urge to change the subject, George said,

"Do you fancy some dinner? Because if we drink any more, neither of us are going to be able to drive."

"Yes," Said Jo with a smile, realising that George needed something of a reprieve. "That would be nice." Not knowing where George lived, Jo simply had to

follow her, observing with amusement the way in which George swiftly moved her car passed anything that was going even slightly too slow for her. When

they eventually drew up outside George's house, Jo got out of her car and said,

"You do know that you're a perfect candidate for road rage?" Locking her car, George laughed.

"I was a candidate for it years ago," She said, walking up the front steps. "I've since graduated with a first."

George had thrown together a meal of sorts, and they'd eaten in companionable appreciation of good food. Jo had been incredibly curious to see George's

house, something that hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Feel free to look around," George had said as she prepared their dinner. It was something of an eye opener to Jo, to finally see where John had spent about

nine years of his life. George had never hidden the fact that she had money, none of it John's, but it was on viewing a couple of the paintings in George's

house that told Jo of how that money had been wisely invested. After they'd eaten, Jo helped George clear away the dishes, feeling more relaxed than she

had done for a long time. It struck both of them as odd that, after so many years of nothing but sniping, here they were, having dinner together, and actually

enjoying each other's company. As for what may or may not occur later, that remained to be seen. When George had dried the last fork and put it away, she

turned to see Jo refilling both their wineglasses. Before she could stop herself, she found herself saying,

"I like seeing you in my house," Which told her in no uncertain terms that she'd definitely had too much to drink. Putting the bottle down on the kitchen

table, Jo walked over to her.

"Good," Said Jo quietly, running a lazy finger down George's cheek. When their lips inevitably met, George leaned back against the worktop as if needing

its support, simultaneously wrapping her arms round Jo's waist. When they broke apart, they stared at each other, both slightly startled.

"I think," Said George, trying to get her heart rate back under control. "This is going to take a bit of getting used too." Jo just grinned, and picking

up the two glasses, she followed George in to the lounge. George had earlier put some soft music on the stereo, and now they lay along the sofa, George

lying in the crook of Jo's right arm. Their glasses of wine were on the coffee table within George's reach, and she'd lit a cigarette, which they passed

between them.

"I wish this was a joint," Said George, taking a drag. Jo simply raised an eyebrow. "It would just put the cap on the level of sheer surrealism, that's

all."

"Smoking dope was something else I didn't get round to in my youth," Said Jo with a self-deprecating smile.

"I did in my last year of school and then at university," Said George. "But I think it's one of those things you only do when either you're not aware of

the legal consequences or you're in the frame of mind that makes you certain you won't get caught. Daddy would have had a fit if he'd known." Jo laughed

and took the cigarette from George. They lay there, talking, and occasionally laughing. They were drinking incredibly slowly, both of them making a concerted

effort to remain as sober as possible, both women wanting to attribute whatever might come next to their feelings, rather than to a large amount of alcohol.

When George had stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray, she took a swig of her wine. Lying cuckooned in Jo's arm, she felt safe, secure, and above all

sexy. She turned her face towards Jo's, and kissed her way along her jaw. Their lips were soft and malleable when they met, slowly caressing, exploring

and getting to know each other's mouths. George maneuvered her left arm around Jo, enabling them to become if possible even closer. They were both floating

on a sea of steadily increasing lust and serenity. George had turned half on to her side when they'd begun kissing, and her right hand was lying across

Jo's waist. She just couldn't help it, but Jo's breast appeared to be acting like a magnet to her idle hand. Very slowly, giving Jo plenty of time to say

no, George trailed her hand up until she was gently caressing Jo's invitingly prominent blouse-covered breast. Jo simply smiled, for the moment allowing

George to do whatever she wished. But when George's thumb grazed over her nipple, Jo's kisses became distinctly more passionate.

"George," She said eventually with a wide smile. "I'm far too old to be doing this on the sofa."

"No one is ever too old to do this on the sofa," Replied George between kisses. "But if you insist," She said, gently detaching herself from Jo, "Follow me."

When they were once again standing, George handed Jo the bottle of wine and picked up the two glasses and led the way upstairs.

Once in her bedroom, George placed their glasses on the dressing table, Jo putting the wine bottle down beside them.

"Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?" Asked George, looking Jo straight in the eye.

"Yes," Said Jo with quiet certainty. "Are you?"

"I wouldn't miss this for the world," Replied George, moving in to Jo's arms, quite ready to continue where they'd left off. As they rapidly removed each

other's clothes, they continued kissing, their hands relentlessly wandering. Jo also took the opportunity to have a look at George's taste in bedrooms.

Perhaps the only word to really, thoroughly describe this room was sexy. The rich, red thick carpet, with the rose patterned curtains and bed covers, gave

the room a wholly erotic glow that couldn't help but make a person feel warm and in the mood for excitement. When they lay under the duvet of the enormous

king-sized bed, their arms went round each other, their legs entwining as if not to leave any tangible space between them.

"So," Said Jo, suddenly taking note of the fact that George had at some point switched on the CD-player on her dressing-table, "You're another one who likes

to make love to music." George laughed.

"Of course," She said, "It was a habit I picked up from John." Lying on George's left, Jo began to run her left hand delicately over George's silky, soft

skin, provoking a gasp when she encountered a rock hard nipple.

"I bet you've always been pretty vocal," Observed Jo with a grin.

"You can't shut me up the rest of the time," Said George through slightly gritted teeth, "So why start now."

"Who said I was," Replied Jo, between kisses. "At least I'll know where I'm going wrong."

"Well, right now you're certainly not," Replied George, her breathing noticeably quickened. "Trust me." Jo was gently rolling George's nipple between finger

and thumb, but thinking George would prefer something a little different, she kissed her way down until she was tentatively circling said nipple with her

lips. When she ran an experimental tongue over the nipple, George groaned in ecstasy. Jo couldn't quite believe she was doing this, but now wasn't the

time for thinking. She simply had to let her senses and George's reactions guide her. But when her teeth accidentally caught the highly sensitized skin,

George winced. Immediately detaching her lips, Jo said,

"I'm sorry." George gently stroked Jo's cheek to reassure her.

"Don't worry," She said, "I like it like that sometimes. It was just a bit unexpected." Switching to the other nipple, Jo made an enormous effort to keep

her sharp incisors away from George's delicate skin. When she realised that although George was thoroughly enjoying this, but that she was beginning to

twitch with unfulfilled desire, Jo kissed her way back up to George's face, in order to read her reactions to what she was about to do more accurately.

With her eyes fixed on George's, she trailed her left hand down, across an incredibly flat stomach, and along the wonderfully slender right thigh. George

parted her legs slightly in acknowledgment and Jo cautiously inched her hand between them. Her eyes widened when she discovered that George was completely

shaved.

"That surprise you, does it?" Asked George slightly mockingly.

"No, not entirely," Replied Jo, grazing a delicate finger over George's clit. In response, George again sealed her lips over Jo's to prevent herself from

crying out. But as Jo gently probed George's hidden entrance, she said,

"Is this really because of me?" in total wonderment at how wet and responsive George was.

"I don't see anyone else here, do you," Replied George between kisses, deciding that there really was something to be said for a woman's delicate touch.

Not entirely sure she could move her fingers inside and over George at the same time, Jo gently withdrew a lubricated finger and began caressing George's

clit. George couldn't believe just how naughty this all felt. The feeling that she was tasting the forbidden fruit, finally succumbing like Eve after all

the years of ignoring the serpent of desire, made her climb inexorably towards pleasure's peak. When Jo felt George's hand inch its way in beside hers,

she realised that she wasn't quite doing this the way George obviously preferred it. But there was no criticism from her, no scorn. George simply moved

Jo's finger and thumb so that they were rolling her clit between them. Once she was sure Jo understood how she liked it, George removed her hand and began

giving Jo's nipples some attention. So as to keep her concentration, Jo gently detached George's hand from her and simply let it go round her. George couldn't

seem to decide between kissing her and talking complete gibberish. But when she finally came, she let out one slightly strangled, elongated sound. Afterwards,

as Jo gently withdrew her hand, George lay stunned. If she'd been honest with herself, she hadn't entirely expected Jo to be any good at this. She knew

that had been unfair, and she also knew that this was a left over expectation from their previous feeling towards each other. But after some slight adjustment,

Jo had been wonderful.

"I'm sorry I didn't get it right first time," Said Jo quietly.

"What," Said George, having been dragged from her state of dazed contemplation. Then, getting her slightly fuddled brain round what Jo had said, she replied,

"don't be. You were incredible." Turning on to her side, she put her arms round Jo and began kissing her. Running her smooth, perfectly manicured hand

over Jo's left breast, she thought it might be fun to try and play Jo at her own game.

"So," She said with a wicked little smirk. "Tell me what you like and I'll see if I can oblige."

"What I did to you wouldn't be a bad start," Replied Jo between kisses.

"Now, that really is an avoidance tactic if ever I heard one. Who was it who said we shouldn't be doing this if we can't talk about it." Jo laughed.

"You don't give up, do you," She said huskily.

"Never," Replied George with sincere determination. "You should know that after appearing opposite me in court." But taking Jo at her word, George eventually

detached her lips and kissed her way down to suckle gently on one of Jo's nipples.

"Are you sure you've never done this before?" Asked Jo after a while.

"Absolutely," Said George, stopping for a moment and looking up.

"So how come you're so good at it?" Asked Jo, no longer shy about paying George a complement. George grinned, and realising exactly what Jo was asking,

she said,

"Ah, well, when you don't mind giving men a certain sexual eccentricity, keeping teeth well out of harm's way is something you learn fast."

"Oh, I see," Said Jo with a smile. "Not something I've ever especially enjoyed doing."

"Like most things bed related," Said George, returning to her task. "It's an acquired taste." Keeping her mouth working on one breast, and her left hand

caressing the other, George played her right hand along Jo's ribs, over the curve of her hip and along her thigh. She gently inched a leg in between Jo's,

and was now half draped over her. Jo wasn't quite as utterly bare skinned as she was, but the hair she did have was short and sparse. Having done this

to herself intermittently over the years as a result of a lack of men to do it for her, George moved her hand with far more confidence between Jo's legs

than perhaps Jo had with her. Jo gasped as George inched two fingers inside her, and on finding their was room for it, a third. After flicking her tongue

over Jo's nipple one last time, George began kissing her way down across Jo's stomach, her intention being to replace her wandering thumb with her tongue.

But laying a hand on George's shoulder, Jo stopped her.

"George, no," She said, halting George in her progress.

"Why?" Asked a mystified George. "You're surely not telling me you don't like it? "

"No, of course not," Said Jo with a smile. "I'm just, not sure if I'd ever want to do that to you."

"So?" Asked George, extremely touched at Jo's honesty.

"Please George, I'd like to be able to see you."

"All right," Said George gently, kissing her way back up Jo's torso until she was lying fully against her side. As George moved her fingers inside and her

thumb over her clit, Jo began kissing her, her breathing quickening, and turning on to her side so that she could wrap both arms round George. Kissing

her way over the rest of Jo's face to leave her mouth free to be as loud as she felt like being, George increased the speed in her right hand, simultaneously

grazing over Jo's clit and seeking out her G spot which, when located, made Jo cry out in total abandon. When Jo's whole body stiffened, and her internal

muscles squeezed round George's fingers, she couldn't help but cry George's name.

Afterwards, as George gently withdrew her hand, she realised that this time, it was Jo who was shedding a few tears.

"Don't cry," She said, softly running her hand up and down Jo's back. "Was I really that bad?"

"No, of course not," Said Jo with a watery smile. But she didn't seem able to stem her tears. When George gently disentangled herself from Jo and made to

get out of bed, Jo said,

"Where are you going?"

"Only to get the wine," Replied George with a soft smile, realising that Jo was experiencing the same shock wave reaction she had the previous weekend.

She walked over to the dressing-table, filled both their glasses and, handing one to Jo and putting her own down on the bedside table, slid back under

the duvet.

"I'm sorry," Said Jo, having taken a sip of her wine and put the glass down.

"It's all right," Said George, "I think you're going through the same earth shattering adjustment of reality that I did last weekend."

"It isn't supposed to be like this," Said Jo, not quite able to explain what she meant.

"I know," Said George gently. "We're supposed to loathe the very sight of each other, we're supposed to snipe and bitch at every possible opportunity, and

we're certainly not supposed to share an entirely new experience and bring the other to orgasm." Jo laughed miserably.

"You felt like this too?" She asked.

"Of course I did," Said George with a gentle smile. "I didn't think I knew who I was any more. But instead of getting it out of my system like you're doing

now, I tried to deal with it by hiding. But John's middle name isn't perseverance for nothing. You know what he's like, even if talking's the last thing

in the world you want to contemplate, he all but forces you in to it, usually with altruistic reasons, but nevertheless infuriating."

"What was it like for you, to sleep with John again?" George went quiet for a moment.

"As worrying as this may sound to you, it felt like coming home." Then, seeing the look on Jo's face, George strove to reassure her. "Don't worry," She

said with a smile. "I'm not planning any kind of take over. There's far too much water gone under the bridge for that." They moved together, needing the

comfort and reassurance of the other's arms.

"John's face would be a picture if he could see us now," Said Jo softly.

"I'm glad he can't," Said George, planting a soft kiss on Jo's lips. "I'm glad it was just the two of us." As they slowly drifted to sleep in each other's

embrace, they both knew that whatever happened, next week, next month or next year, never again would either of them go back to the way they'd been before.

It was the beeping of George's alarm clock that roused them both from a self-satisfied slumber. Blindly reaching an arm out from under the duvet, George

switched it off. Settling back down, she looked ready to go back to sleep.

"George," Said Jo, her voice full of sleep. "Alarm clocks usually mean it's time to get up."

"I know," Groaned George. "I hate mornings." As Jo made to get out of bed, George found herself saying, "I don't want you to go." Putting her arms round

her, Jo said,

"Well, as we both have to be in court this morning, I'll have to, and if you don't want John asking awkward questions, I'll have to go home for some clothes."

George grinned.

"That really would give him something to think about, wouldn't it."

A couple of hours later when Jo arrived at court, she met John in the foyer.

"Where did you get too last night?" He asked on seeing her. "I tried to call you."

"That's absolutely none of your business," Jo replied, kissing him. Looking over her shoulder, he saw an immaculately dressed George making her way through

the double doors. Half detaching himself from Jo, he waved at George who came over. Then, looking more closely at her face, he laughed.

"You two were together last night, weren't you?" He said, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Said George, giving Jo a conspiratorial wink.

"Yes you do," Responded John. "I'd know that smirk anywhere."


End file.
